"Heinlein, Robert A- Waldo" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

care of Palmdale Inn, Miami. I'll be the fourth beachcomber
from the right.'
Gleason permitted himself an unhappy smile. `If you don't get
results, I'll bç the fifth. Good luck.'
`So long.'
When Stevens had gone, Chief Stationary Engineer Striebel
spoke up for the first time. `If the power to the cities fails,' he
said softly, `you know where I'll be, don't you?'
`Where? Beachcomber number six?'
`Not likely. I'll be number one in my spot, first man to be lynched.'
`But the power to the cities can't fail. You've got too many cross-
connects and safety devices.'
`Neither can the deKalbs fail, supposedly. Just the same, think
about Sublevel 7 in Pittsburgh, with the lights out. Or, rather,
don't think about it!'
Doc Grimes let himself into the aboveground access which led
into his home, glanced at the announcer, and noted with mild,
warm interest that someone close enough to him to pos-sess
his house combination was inside. He moved ponderously
downstairs, favouring his game leg, and entered the lounging
room.
`Hi, Doc!' James Stevens got up when the door snapped open
and came forward to greet him.
`H'lo, James. Pour yourself a drink. I see you have. Pour me one.'
`Right.'
While his friend complied, Grimes shucked himself out of the
outlandish anachronistic greatcoat he was wearing and threw
it more or less in the direction of the robing alcove. It hit the
floor heavily, much more heavily than its appearance justified,
despite its unwieldy bulk. It clunked.
Stooping, he peeled off thick overtrousers as massive as the coat.
He was dressed underneath in conventional business tights in
blue and sable. It was not a style that suited him. To an eye
unsophisticated in matters of civilized dress, let us say the
mythical Man-from-Antares - he might have seemed
uncouth, even unsightly. He looked a good bit like an elderly
fat beetle.
James Stevens's eye made no note of the tights, but he looked
with disapproval on the garments which had just been dis-carded.
`Still wearing that fool armour,' he commented.
`Certainly.'
`Damn it, Doc - you'll make yourself sick, carrying that junk around.
It's unhealthy.'
`Danged sight sicker if I don't.'
`Rats! 1 don't get sick, and I don't wear armour - outside the lab.'
`You should.' Grimes walked over to where Stevens had re-seated
himself. `Cross your knees.' Stevens complied; Grimes struck him
smartly below the kneecap with the edge of his palm. The reflex
jerk was barely perceptible. `Lousy,' he remarked, then peeled back
his friend's right eyelid.